A tear about to fall

And here’s a more abstract view of a “widow’s tear” about to fall from the tip of a spathe of a dayflower, Commelina erecta. You can see upside-down trees inside the drop of liquid, which acted like a lens.

Like the last two photographs, I took this one near Lake Travis on July 19. Unlike yesterday’s picture, not all of the spathe is sharp this time, as I chose to focus on the drop, which is the most important element.

I find it interesting that the seeming motion of the top half of the drop draws the eye to the base and fixes your view to that point. Your eye cannot rest for long on any other feature! It’s beautiful, Steve!
~ Lynda

One of the photographers over at Vision and Verb just purchased an oculus after seeing another photographer use one. Their photos using their oculi were the first thing that came to mind when I saw this photo – “Nature’s Oculus” would be a fine title. I’m amazed that you managed to capture both the movement of the drop and the sharp image. It’s just wonderful.

I know the Latin word oculus as ‘little eye,’ so I’m inferring from what you wrote and from the references I saw on Vision and Verb that in this case it’s something like a large, clear marble. Water or glass, the reflective properties would be the same or similar, so I can see why this picture reminded you of that.

I’m glad that you find the image wonderful but I think you might be giving me too much credit. Although the drop was getting ready to fall, at the moment when I took the picture it must have been stationary or mostly so. I’m guessing that the tension in the stretched upper portion of the liquid created those vertical lines on the surface that give the impression of rapid movement even when there was only a little motion or perhaps even none. Whatever the explanation, I still like the result, and I’m pleased that you find it effective.

[…] my other blog a while back I showed a photograph of a native plant that sometimes goes by the name widow’s tears. We know that the Spanish word for tear is lágrima, but sound changes have obscured the fact that […]

Steve, thanks for the link to yet another amazing photo. The photographer in me would love to know how in the world you take such amazing photos. Of course, there is no simple answer other than try, try, try, right? Again, thanks for sharing with me. Simply amazing!

You’re welcome. Unlike the split-second photographs of Harold Edgerton, this one shows an event that played out over several seconds. The drop gradually lengthened before falling, so I had enough time—though still not a lot—to focus and compose. And as you say, if one attempt fails (which happens often enough), try again.